City of Slow Dreams: The Preludes
by Elliot Bowers
Summary: Humanity at War...
1. Prelude 1

City of Slow Dreams: Prelude 1 (by Elliot Bowers) 

This massive, truck-like vehicle plodded along an immense wounded plain beneath a slow blue sky. These plains were so wounded, so full of blast-holes from battle, that they were an uneven checkerboard brown-and-green; there was a battle here some weeks ago.Cannons, mines, rockets, burst guns, all of that blasted the land.The grass did not grow back over the many thousands of blasted holes.And maybe, the grass won't grow in places for another ten years or so.The tactical shells and land mines of this War did that. 

The armored transport that romped over the pitted places of dirt and grass was itself a vehicle of war—or of _the_ War.The transport resembled an Army truck of centuries past: a very high carriage, big payload up back, and a rugged cab at the front.All over, the plodding green vehicle was camouflage-painted metal.The wheels were of a flexible and spiked metal—the flexible wheels and excellent suspension prevented the vehicle from jouncing about too much. 

Somehow, despite partial damage to the underside of the vehicle's transmission, this vehicle drove almost as well as new. _Almost_ like new:It took some strength to turn the now-stiffened steering.But the driver drove the vehicle without complaints.Inside the vehicle, the driver's solid face remained with eyes forward.There was no expression save for the two eyes that looked steadily forward.Despite the steering wheel being massively stiff and brutal to the hands, the driver drove on with unlimited endurance.That was because the driver was a non-sentient robot—a dumb machine that merely did what it was told. 

In the back of the vehicle, five quiet soldiers sat on wall-mounted padded benches that were some relief from the jouncing.Their uniforms were almost total matches for the American military uniforms of the Old Days—the days before the War.Short and tall, male and female, these soldiers wore the same dappled green: trousers that were just slightly floppy below the knee, tops consisting of long-sleeved heavy shirts over lighter brown undershirts, black gloves and black boots.All over-clothing was the camouflage colors of splotched green and brown, of course.But these soldiers wore no helmets, revealing varied hairstyles.Because these soldiers did not want helmets. 

The hairstyles were not the only difference between those in this brightly lit transport vehicle.Three of these soldiers looked excessively male, regarding their physiques: broad shoulders, powerful legs.Two of the males had reddish skin tones.Yet all three males had the very same physiques:same height, same builds.That was by regulation. 

As for the two females, their physiques were idealized as well—slender and long-legged.But the two differed in height and hair types.One female soldier was as tall as the males:six feet in height.And she had shoulder-length dark hair.The other female soldier was a waif of a girl in appearance: barely four feet in height and thin.Her "cute" and round pale face, topped with ash-blonde hair, made her seem yet more frail._Seem_ more frail… 

Though all sporting the same uniforms, these were yet individuals.Perhaps the most individualistic of them was the male with the insane mane of dark wooly hair: Elio. And now, Elio decided to break the silence today."Captain, I have to say something," he began, looking at the fellow soldier at the front of the compartment.They were listening."This has to be the first time I've been in a unit without ammo or guns.And, well…I'm…"He went quiet, failing to explain. 

Captain Jimbo, the one at the front of the compartment, regarded Elio.The captain'spale-faced and dark-haired head had dark eyes to go with them—eyes that pierced at Elio's less serious brown ones."You're frightened, is what you're trying to say." 

"Well…I _hate_ to use that word, captain," said Elio, holding out his hands."I mean, 'frightened' is a sissy word.I'm trying to be _tough._Being tough, it's part of this job, right?Blasting the enemy and being mighty despite injury and death.But that's easy when we have guns._Guns_.Heck, we can't even steal the enemies' guns because only the enemy can use them.How can I fight well?I'm not really good at fighting hand-to-hand." 

Captain Jimbo then looked to the soldier seated directly opposite Elio: the elfen-esque soldier.Her pert and youngish face looked downward—almost girlish in contemplation.In fact, Alia was even swinging her thin legs in rhythm with the movement of the vehicle.Such a _girl_! 

The captain gestured in Alia's direction."Elio, look at Alia.Elfin.Per regulations, she has her female-type body."_That _made Alia pay attention; with a gasp, she snapped her head up from her floor-staring reverie."And because she's a techie, she's short _and _very thin—because of regulations.We cannot have large techies, can we?We need them to squeeze into small engine compartments and such to do repairs.So being female and a techie, regulations for body type make Alia the smallest and weakest of us. 

"Though made to be physically weak, she's a real ace with guns—because her specialty is tools.Very high dexterity, you know.But her body doesn't have the ruggedness the rest of ours have.If anyone is the worst off due to a lack of weapons, it's Alia.But she's taking this all.So if you ever feel your morale slipping, just think of tough little Alia. 

"In fact, let's hear Alia speak now…" 

By now, everyone's eyes were on the smallest soldier, and she felt smaller than her forty-eight inches.There was Captain Jimbo up front, _staring_.Samuk was at her right side—_staring_.Elio and Lisa were seated opposite her, and _both _were_ staring._ All their eyes were locked on her, _staring_ and expectant…Elf-girl! 

But even an elf needed courage.Looking at the captain, her large eyes as dark as his own, she said, "I have fear, too, captain.But it is something that I try to keep controlled."She clasped her hands together, gloved palm across gloved palm."Yet fear is something so _difficult_ a force to keep tight—because it is wriggly by nature." 

_Wriggly?_Was that even a real word?Or was that a cute word cute little people use?Alia looked around, hoping that saying that was enough.She took in a wavering breath, worried and nervous. 

But it was enough.No one spoke for some seconds as they contemplated.The slight rumbling of the vehicle's efficient-working engine filled this space, and the soldiers swayed with the slight jostling."That could be true, Alia," finally said the captain. "Yet, you manage to keep fear under control.If we were like the enemy, though, we wouldn't…"_Pl-pl-plink!_

Everyone hit the floor and lied flat. _Pl-pl-plink!Pl-pl-plink!_It was experience and training that made them dive for the hard floor: Those were bulletssmacking the vehicle from the outside. Despite the thick alloy armor, there was the chance that the bullets could get through, then go through the bodies of the soldiers.The enemy had ceramic bullets—many types able to pierce thick armor even when fired from hand-held burst-guns…_Pl-pl-plink!_

"Lisa!Samuk!You two are the best in hand-to-hand.Get up front and confront the threat!The rest help me cover the back," ordered Captain Jimbo.He then dashed to the back of the compartment and kicked at the large single door—which flew up when it sensed the hit.As this vehicle was with a high carriage, the soldiers had to leap the three meters to the ground from the back. 

Leaping out and down from the high rear of the armored vehicle, Lisa and Samukwere the first out onto this pockmarked brown-and-green plain—outside after so many hours inside the windowless space of the transport.Lisa went around the right side of the vehicle, and Samuk went around the left.They then dashed to the front—running so fast that their legs were nearly machine-fast blurs. 

When they came to near the front of the vehicle, they skidded to a stop—their boots scraping up brown soil.That double-spray of dirt then cascaded and surprised the two armored figures standing before the vehicle."_Shit!Cheap tactics_!" shouted one of the two heavily armored figures standing up front.He and his battle partner were twenty yards before the vehicle, and they were now wiping sprayed dirt from their narrow visors. 

These two armed looked like short trolls in full body armor.Both were also roughly six feet in height.Their bodies were wide in the thick armor—alloy-encased arms, round legs, wide chests and round-top helmets with rectangular visors.This contrasted with their burst guns:dark gray and simple-looking long rifles that could fire three ceramic rounds in quick succession. 

As their right gauntleted hands still held rifles, they kept to wiping at their visors with their left hands.Lisa and Samuk took that chance to rush at the two figures.And that was a mistake; the two armored figures were only _feigning_ dirty visors. 

The one on the right brought up his long gray rifle and aimed at one running figure._Cr-cr-crack!_Those three rounds bit into Lisa's torso.She tumbled over and over, then lie still. 

Samuk managed to get straight at the one on the right—Lisa's original target.Samuk then leapt and kicked out: a leaping side-kick.With that _thunk_ of boot-on-armor, the armored troll of a man flopped backward…Down and disoriented, Samuk's target was made an easier mark. 

As such, Samuk had no trouble kneeling atop the fallen man and punching the armored abdomen…_Th-thunk!_Two quick punches from that soldier, and the enemy's armored torso took big dents.A third punch from Samuk, and the enemy's gut caved in—blood coming up through cracks in the armor.The armor was strong, but Samuk was stronger. 

Too bad Samuk was distracted from the other enemy._Cr-cr-crack!_That burst of gunfire sounded out, and Samuk took all of those rounds high up in his back.Samuk spasmed, and then he fell atop the armored man he just killed."Take that, metal-fetish freak!" said the still-standing enemy.Apparently, Samuk's body was not stronger than bullets. 

By now, Lisa was up again.Ignoring the slight feeling of cold and burning in her midsection, she managed to take long running strides at the still-standing enemy.She him turn and look at her.He began to aim.She then leapt and rolled along the ground to evade… 

_Cr-cr-crack!_The enemy burst-gun fired thrice, and all three ceramic rounds went deep into the grass.Missing was the worst sort of thing he could have done when dealing with the type of enemies he faced now. 

_Thunk-thunk… Chunk!_Lisa struck the man's big solid back twice with fierce jabs—denting the armor.With a third blow, she managed to split the man's armor.Thick red liquid welled from that split.And he went _down_—armor, burst gun and all. 

It was victory.Both of the enemies were down now.Despite having burst guns and surprisingly decent armor, they lost.It was at cost, though.Samuk had taken rounds in the back and was down. 

"Excellent work, you both," said Captain Jimbo coming alone from behind the vehicle, his slight English accent coming through that time.And that came about when he worried.He now worried about fallen Samuk."Alia!Bring tools!"he shouted.In six seconds, Alia was at his side—with a foot-long rectangular case in her left hand."Samuk's body is damaged," he stated. 

The elfen techie nodded and she quickly knelt by the side of the soldier atop the fallen figure in armor, her pale hair coming over her face."This looks significant," she said."I need him off the enemy for more accurate diagnosis." 

Captain Jimbo quickly moved Samuk off of the fallen figure—onto the grassy ground.He then stood back as Alia knelt close to Samuk, her gloved fingers going close to the bullet damage in his back."His brain support's going down…" On impulse, she then tore away a back swath of Samuk's uniform—to expose the smooth gray metal surface beneath.A smooth _metal_ back, save for three slightly smoking holes. 

"I want to move him inside," said Captain Jimbo as he looked around."They could still be around—maybe hiding in foxholes.I don't want any more of us injured."Alia nodded and Captain Jimbo slung Samuk over a shoulder. 

He strode to the waiting vehicle, lifted and put Samuk in.Everyone went to the high back of the door and went inside, even Lisa—who limp-jogged.Then the armored door swung down and shut, leaving the armored enemy corpses behind.As for the burst guns, they had to leave them: The burst guns stopped functioning as soon as their owners died.That prevented enemies such as these soldiers from taking their weapons. 

Inside the vehicle, Captain Jimbo laid a limp Samuk on the floor."Remove his clothing, please," said Alia.And, working together, Elio and Lisa removed Samuk's clothing.That exposed his gray metal body—a body that seemed to be of form-fitting gray metal armor from his red-complexioned neck down.But the armor _was_ his body.Samuk was a cyborg. 

And everyone in this vehicle was a metal-type cyborgs.The only things "real" about these soldiers were their still-living brains.As for their bodies, they were all synthetics.Inside their torsos were rugged electromechanics and life-support for their brains—machines that helped control movement and kept their living flesh-brains alive by supplying synthesized nutrients and oxygen. 

Their exteriors were designed to retain a semblance of humanity—as with the "masculine" and "feminine" forms of body-type and faces.Their faces, at least, looked human.But, beneath the faces were skulls of carbon-plated titanium.The "flesh" of their heads was just realistic masks over metal skulls, and their hair was fiberglass. 

At any other time, they could have had realistic bodies.They could have had bodies that looked absolutely real, bodies of synthetic flesh over metal skeletons.This, and synth flesh-type bodies were still stronger than real ones. 

But as "beautiful" as they were, synth flesh-type bodies were weaker than metal-type bodies.No, these people had to be strong.These were soldiers.The people here were fighting men and women—even if they no longer called themselves "human."They were cyborgs.Humans were the enemy.This was the War. 

Alia, kneeling and close to Samuk, prodded about inside the top-most bullet-hole in Samuk's back—thin and long tools in her gloved hands. She leaned closer, and her pale short-cut hair cascaded over the sides of her face.Though this seemed like simple staring, Alia's eyes and fingers were instruments of diagnosis.Her plastic eyes switched to infrared, and that allowed her to see where cyborg components malfunctioned beneath the surface.Also, signals from the diagnostics tools were radioed from the tools to her hands—and transmitted to her visual systems. 

She saw the diagnosis readout through the left side of her electronic eyesight.And she saw the status of Samuk's electromechanical innards."He is fortunate, I believe.The ceramic rounds were not of the fragmenting type…But, I cannot fully…" She poked something in Samuk's back, her long and thin tools still probing."_Damn_ this…" she said, taking off her gloves.Her small gray hands bare, they looked quite skeletal.She then picked up the instruments again.This time, free of constraints, her fingers moved with an iota more ease."I believe…I _believe_ some sub-capacitors have been damaged, scraped by bullets.That could lead to burnout of some life-support.His brain could die momentarily without the relief of stasis mode." 

The captain knew what that meant.Essentially, the metal "organs" that kept Samuk's brain alive were in tricky condition.If Samuk were allowed to "rest," or be temporarily shut off, then he would recover."Stasis, then," said Captain Jimbo. 

Samuk was a good soldier, and he did not want to lose him to death.But Samuk being a good soldier was the reason why the captain regretted switching Samuk to stasis.In that state, Samuk's brain would be put in a long sleep while auto-repair systems "healed" him.Once in stasis, a synthetic-bodied person could not be made active again until auto-repairs were completed.That could be days or months… 

Alia then put away the thin probing-diagnostics instruments.She then reached for a pen-like device in the kit:a Quick-Stasis Inducer, or QSI.It actually had the length and width of a pen, but there was a very small video display built into its middle and with no inked point.Held to a bare metal or synth-flesh chest, a QSI induced stasis.Now Alia held the QSI to Samuk's chest.Then she herself let out a long and stressed breath. 

"No need…" she said as she slowly put away the QSI.Others seated along the sides of the transport had stopped looks on their faces.She looked up, everyone looking at her."No, no.I mean to imply something else…Not death.His stasis was automatic—an indication of possible worsening.No need for the QSI." 

While the rest let out slow breaths of relief, tall Lisa gasped—her pale synth-flesh face wearing a grimace.Her gloved hands went to her abdomen, where there were little jagged holes in her uniform.Then, Lisa righted herself."I'm okay…" she voiced. 

_I refuse to lose another to auto-stasis,_ thought Captain Jimbo."Alia,move Samuk aside and do diagnostics on Lisa."Alia moved Samuk to the side, managing to slide him to the side of this compartment. 

Alia said, "Remove your upper clothing and lie on your back, please.Frontal damage, you see…"She sounded calm and professionally—like a work-a-day physician instead of an military techie. 

The taller soldier complied, removing the upper parts of her clothing, even her gloves.Her sooth feminine torso had a young and vaguely athletic—but done in metal.Marring the statuesque smoothness of her smooth body were two bullet holes, both bullets in the lower-left side of her slim gray abdomen. 

The small techie again took the probing diagnostics tools from the toolkit—a doll of a person perusing a taller one.Her eyesight changed over to infra-red and diagnostics readouts as the thin tools went into a bullet-hole in Lisa's torso."I will have to give probability readings on this…." 

Some moments passed, Alia almost unmoving as she hunched over Lisa's body."Lisa, some capacitors and a processor in your mobility systems took hits.Your systems may overheat if you become too active.But you barely missed the worse; a ceramic round nearly broke casing around your microfusion pack."Alia referred to the long-lived baseball-sized sphere that supplied energy to a synthetic body."This has irony, but I have more worry for your mobility than your life-support.Another slight to those systems, and there is near-guarantee of paralysis.That guarantee holds unless you pass ten hours of stasis.Not much, but an amelioration over the auto-stasis mode Samuk just passed into." 

Lisa took in a sharp breath of air, and she tilted back her head—neck machinery exposed.She was able to look upside-down into the eyes of the captain.At another time, this could be slightly comic. 

"Is stasis necessary?" asked Captain Jimbo, looking from Lisa to Alia."Is it all possible that there is no danger to her life support?"He saw Alia give a shake of her ash-haired head."Then let us keep Lisa out of stasis." 

"Sir, brief words of counter-argument?" asked Alia.Her dollish stare was a pleading one.The silence from the captain meant consent."Perhaps even a moderate blow to any of her mobility components could induce just enough overload to the remaining capacitors.She would then fall into stasis.Auto-stasis, specifically." 

The captain answered sternly, "Alia, you're thinking as a techie.I have to think as a captain.As captain, we will need all the hands we can get.As it is, we are all that is left of a platoon.A _platoon_.If there are not enough of us to fight, then perhaps _none _of us live." 

Alia looked down, contrite."_Yes sir…_" she whispered.She looked on as Lisa then sat up and re-clothed herself.She saw Lisa quickly put back on her brown undershirt and camouflage top.Her patient also put back on black gloves.Fully clothed again, all but her head was covered; Lisa looked as human as the enemy. 

They moved on.Eventually, there was a point when the going went from plodding to simply riding; the ground in this area was smoother and easier on the suspension.There was now much less jouncing about while riding.Battle had not happened in this region of the Midwestern plains for some weeks; wind, gravity and three rainstorms resettled the blasted parts. 

Inside the transport, though, that was little relief.What still hurt was how they had casualties from that last skirmish.It was one thing to be out in the field and having planned attacks against the enemy.But this was supposed to be retreat.An unofficial retreat and withdrawal by these soldiers, this was, but these soldiers still expected peace and relaxation after prolonged fighting. 

No, not the enemy.The enemy never let up, as proven with that last little ambush.The three in the transport had their eyes on their fallen team-member, who lie in the middle of the transport.Crippled Samuk was now secured to the center of this rectangular compartment with metal bands that connected to the floor of the transport.He was something to look at for pondering. 

Captain Jimbo was still seated at the front of this compartment.He retained a sober demeanor on his synthetic face.One more soldier fallen to mere stasis should not have mattered. 

Then, Alia gasped, her dark eyes widening.The little waif of a cyborg tore off her black gloves and moved quickly to kneel by Samuk's side.Everyone looked on as she moved her solid fingers along Samuk's torso, stopping in certain places.After that quick diagnosis, she then scrambled to the side of the compartment for the toolkit, which was stored in a side compartment. 

Everyone sat still and staring as she nearly _tore_ open the toolkit with her own hands. Then, with deliberate care, she took out a thick-bodied syringe out of the toolkit—one full of a red liquid.With that syringe in her left hand, she leaned closer to Samuk's chest and looked for a certain small place to put the tip of the needle… 

Everyone else sat in silence as the petite and pale-haired techie went about her worried actions.They heard her whispering as well: Though she may not have noticed it herself, Alia was gibbering under her breath. 

Silencing herself, she found a certain tiny hole in Samuk's alloy-solid chest, and she put in the needle.It easily slid in.Then her hand went to the top of the syringe's plunger—and pressed down.The red liquid went into the pin-thin small hole in Samuk's chest…Moments passed,too many moments.And nothing happened with Samuk.Alia's face twisted into the pain of sudden and deep sadness. 

Slowly and quietly, Alia withdrew the emptied syringe and put it back in the toolkit.She closed the toolkit.Then, at a misery saddened pace, she put it back into the storage place in the side of this compartment.Alia sat down at Elio's side again—and she let out a long breath. 

Captain Jimbo looked at Alia."Then, Samuk's life support shut down before auto-repairs could help him," he said with absolute normality.He saw Alia give two nods of affirmation. 

She said, "I let my eyes switch over to infrared and diagnostics again.That allowed monitoring of Samuk' condition.But then his life support shut down—due to overload from damage.I saw the heat signatures of that full breakdown…That was the point that at which not even an emergency infusion of nanobot solution could…" Then Alia gave a quick shriek when something happened. 

What happened was that there was a massive booming from the front of the transport, and everything shuddered.The lighting flickered to red.Severe trouble. 

"Everyone out! Elio and Lisa move to engage; Alia and I will affect repairs.Move!"Captain Jimbo was first to the door, everything still illuminated in rouge.He kicked, and the door flew open up to the outside—wispy smoke hanging about.They leapt out… 

Elio went to the front of the transport, being close-followed by Captain Jimbo and Alia—their green uniforms dark in the gray smoke out here.Still-damaged Lisa limp-jogged through smoke to the back; she would attack any enemies to the rear. 

Elio went out away from the gray smoke.Alia and Captain Jimbo remained in these noxious fumes to get to the front of the vehicle.Closer, Alia could see the damage to the front. 

They stood before the tall front-end of the transport."_A damned EMP-plus mine_," he whispered loudly.Indeed, the front of the truck-like vehicle was shattered by such a mine:a mine that combined a small electromagnetic pulse burst with a conventional flechette explosive.Not good for non-sentient robots.As he watched, Alia dashed to the right to get into the damaged vehicle.The small elfin cyborg moved so quickly that the taller Captain Jimbo could not stop her. 

She went to the front, to the cab part of the transport.Inside, she saw the problem: The robot driver was inoperative; its hands locked on the steering wheel.And the optical cable connecting its forehead to the dashboard was fused.This was not a casualty, though:just the destruction of a machine.It was just a non-sentient robot with computers for brains.And all of the damaged robot's naked exterior was functional gray.As it was unmarked by the explosion, the robot just _seemed_ well.Inside, thoug, it was broken. 

Even through the smoke and gloom, Alia's enhanced eyesight told different. The robot's innards were roasted from overload;the EMP-plus mine did that.Now she would have to carefully remove the optical cable from the driver robot without causing a short circuit in the drive systems.Her bare fingers went to the fused cable at the robot's head as the sounds of fighting started up outside… 

_Cr-cr-crack!_The captain was hit!Captain Jimbo collapsed to his knees, clutching his upper chest.He had been hit right in the life support systems.And he found that he did not want to stand up again. 

Elio and Lisa moved to the sides of their kneeling leader, and they went into basic hand-to-hand fighting stances:fists up, body turned as so the right side faced the enemy.And there they stayed, waiting for the next move from the new enemies. 

"Yeah, you like _that_, metal-bodied monsters!_And_ I took down your captain!" shouted one of two armor-wearing humans, his voice coming muffled from his round helmet. Like the last encounter, this was another ambush by a team of two.Likely, the thinned ranks of humans from the last battle must have made for such atrociously small teams. 

"Take them," growled Captain Jimbo.His chest sprayed sparks, and he finally collapsed to lie full-length on the ground.He no longer moved. 

As the two humans looked on at the fallen captain, Lisa and Elio moved with machine speed to the sides of the enemy.Flanking the enemies, the two soldiers struck. 

_Thunk-thunk!_Fierce jabs from Elio's solid fists crumpled the back armor of the enemy.The bulky figure then slowly fell in a twisting manner.But before his back hit the ground, hebrought up his burst gun.There were three _crack-crack-cracking _shots at Elio's head… 

Lisa managed to down her own target.She struck with her own alloy-hard hands, then managed to kick out with her undamaged leg.That kick broke the hard-plated back of her opponent, and there was a loud scream.From the voice, that enemy was female.Now that enemy was also dead. 

Lisa then turned to Elio and his battle.But that battle was over as both soldier and enemy were down.Elio was sprawled on his back.His forehead had a crease in it from where the ceramic round hit.He had been shot in the head, and he was unmoving.At least his opponent was down as well and unmoving. 

Lisa shouted for assistance."Alia!Come help!The battle is done!Captain Jimbo and Elio are down!"She turned and saw Alia scramble out of the front to get to the back—likely to get the toolkit.Lisa herself went to Captain Jimbo.As commanding officer, he was the primary priority. 

Kneeling close to the fallen captain, Lisa used her fingers to put her dark hair behind her left ear as she leaned to listened close to Captain Jimbo's face.Though synthetic-bodied, a cyborg still had to breathe to keep oxygen going to the brain. 

She heard nothing.Captain Jimbo's life support systems must have been critically damaged.And she saw the jagged bullet holes in Captain Jimbo's alloy chest—holes visible through tears in the uniform._Jagged_ bullet holes, meaning that the ceramic rounds were of the fragmentation type.Upon piercing his chest, the bullets must have fragmented—tearing up his electromechanical insides:almost a guaranteed death.With Captain Jimbo, that guarantee was met. 

Just as Alia earlier guaranteed paralysis for Lisa if she had taken any more damage.Lisa looked up from Captain Jimbo's corpse and saw the small uniformed techie peering into Elio's head.Alia was perusing Elio's head wound. 

"_Aa-a-augh!_"Elio shouted into Alia's face.A second's delay, and the petite soldierjerked her head back in surprise.She then scrambled to her feet and was away Elio.He shouted and growled, "_A-a-rgh_!_Damn, what a headache!Damn-damn-damn it!_" 

In a quick jiffy, he was also on booted his feet—his black-gloved hands on his head."_Damn!That hurt like a shot to the head!_"He turned to look at the techie, who stood there."Do you have even a _hint_ of an idea as to how much a shot across the head hurts?Ever have hot coffee poured in your ear, then green electrodes applied?Eh?_Eh?_" 

He was gibbering.His body's systems may have been fine; he was physically fine and undamaged.But Elio _had_ taken a shot to the head, which grazed off his alloy skull at an angle.Like the skulls of humans, cyborg skulls were stronger—but with better alloy.That was why these soldiers did not have to wear helmets.But, a direct hit would have pierced Elio's alloy skull to destroy the living brain. 

The glancing shot instead smacked him a concussion, a blow to the frontal lobe…"And you know, Alia," said the gibbering man, "I see _two_ of you!Cool…!"And he promptly flopped onto his back, unconscious. 

But only for seconds.He stood up, this time with anew look in his eyes.Again standing close to and over Alia, he said, "Enough of that coffee!I want to darken someone!Let's take the living soldier prisoner!" 

Lisa managed to approach Elio from the back.He _was_ gibbering. And he was standing in a threatening manner over little Alia.If he made any threatening move to her, Lisa would stop him. 

"Excuse me?" asked Lisa, exasperation and anger on her pale face.Elio turned."Elio, we just lost Captain Jimbo.And, the transport is damaged.We just defeated both of the humans, so let's just…" 

"But we didn't _kill_ both of them," said Elio, with his hands again moving to his forehead."I get the idea that one of them still has to be alive._Has_ to be.Otherwise, there won't be any prisoners to interrogate, get me?Yeah, you get me—because I've got plenty of meaning to get." 

_He talks with a wounded brain_, thought Alia._His thoughts cannot wholly be his own._"Elio," she said in a soothing and calm tone."Are you _quite_ feeling well?Would you like to lie down?In the transport?You can rest for a time as…" 

"Let's get an asshole prisoner, first.I want to know some things from him," said Elio, his forehead-high hands casting shadow over his features.He turned to walk away from them both, his boots clumping along the battle-dusted grass as he approached the armor-wearing human that he downed.Elio then kicked away the soldier's burst gun."I think this crap-spouting asshole's still alive.What say you, Alia?" 

Alia stepped over to where Elio was.Again using her enhanced vision, she saw varying signals rippling throughout the man's armor.His armor was still active, as was his weapon.And she saw that his blood still flowed."He lives on," she said.They had a prisoner. 

The three then went to doing their own activities.Alia began busying herself with the front of the transport; she went into the cab to remove the robot driver and set the vehicle to manual navigation—or driving.She would then drive. 

Lisa would stay outside and pull guard duty.She would remain outside and walk the perimeter.With her artificial senses, she would be able to detect enemies as she circled.But after the fifth walk around the transport, she stopped to look on fallen Captain Jimbo.She admired him. 

Elio himself put the prisoner up into the rear of the transport.The human weighed over 350 pounds in his armor, but that was easily handled by Elio's still well-functioning body.As for the status of Elio's mind, that was also something that needed handling.But not now. 

Now, Elio would go check on his fellow soldiers—the surviving ones.He first went to the front of the transport, over where Alia was working.He saw the door open and peered inside:Alia was jimmying about with the insides of the cab.She was using tools to carefully remove the damaged driving robot from its electronic connections to the vehicle's control systems. 

Alia heard his footsteps.Not even bothering to look outside and away from her work, she said, "Moments more, yet.This should be done."Seconds went by, and Elio still stood there."Really.Care must be taken…and concentration."Then, Alia put more concentration into using her tools on the damaged robot driver's head-to-dashboard connection. 

Elio shrugged a shrug and left the little pale blonde techie alone.But Lisa, she needed attention.She was on both knees, twelve yards away—by the corpse of Captain Jimbo.Elio saw her weeping—and would leave her alone.It seemed that of the three survivors, Alia and himself were handling things well.Alia had quite a bit of spunk for someone so small.At least, Elio thought so. 

_What to do…What to do…What to do now…_ thought Elio._The prisoner!I'll go _do_ him!Time to get some 'intelligence' from one of the enemy._As Elio thought this, a very wrong grin game to his face.The grin was uneven in places, and his grin was slightly larger on the right side—the same side were the bullet scraped across his skull. 

A quasi-mantra went through Elio's tickled mind as he went to the back of the transport._Going to have fun, oh yes-sir-ee.Going to have fun, oh yes-sir-ee.Going to have fun; we're going to have fun; we're going to have fun oh yes-sir-ee!Going to have fun, oh yes-sir-ee…We're going to have fun, oh yes-sir-ee…_

Elio hopped up into the vehicle's red-illuminated rear compartment, then stopped with the artificial stiffness his synthetic body allowed.In the red emergency lighting, the prisoner still lie on his back.He heard the prisoner's breathing.He _did_ live; Alia had good eyes.Well, she wasn't just the techie because of her cute elf-like looks… 

Elio went deeper into the blood-colored interior of this vehicle.He knelt, put his hands at the sides of the prisoner's armored head, then _jerked_.It came off his hands.The helmet came off, that is. 

The prisoner snapped awake—his eyes going wide.As the prisoner was bald, and as the enemy's medical technology was so advanced, it was hard to tell how old this human was by way of eyeing his chubby and portrait-oval face.Worsening the judgement was the dark red lighting.The man could be twenty-five or fifty-five.He looked up at the soldier standing over him, then his arms reached up… 

_Clunk-clunk!_Elio punched each of the man's armored forearms—a contusion for one forearm, and a full break for the other forearm.The prisoner brought down his armored arms and screamed.Elio laughed.The human let out another sound of pain, and Elio laughed on. 

Elio then knelt on the man's alloy-protected chest. He leaned forward, close to the prisoner's face."You know what?You're an asshole.I told my buddies that you were one that spouted shit—as an asshole normally does."Elio slapped the man's left forearm, and he screamed."Let's see if you can shit gold, too.What I mean is that I want some information." 

"Give information?" loudly rasped the bald prisoner."Hah!I wouldn't!Why don't you go drink some petroleum!"That comment made the synth-flesh of Elio's face twitch."And when you do, maybe you'll piss lighter fluid and shit gasoline?Ha, ha, ha…Oops, you freaks don't piss or shit!And I'm not shitting you!No, you're not shitting…at all!_Ugh…Ugh…_Hah, hah, ha…_Ugh_.."The prisoner laughed and coughed in Elio's face. 

The prisoner even laughed when Elio took off a glove.Yes, Elio's hands were articulate and strong metal hands that could do damage.His face sporting a leer, Elio he brought that hand close to the prisoner's face."With that chubby face of yours, you must have been a cute baby!" said Elio as he pinched the prisoner's cheek."How cute?Well,let's see, snookums!"Elio then jerked his gripping hand, and a pinch of the prisoner'speach-colored flesh came away with a wet bloody _sh-sh-shrip_.That shut the prisoner up… 

Lisa screamed.She was standing outside the red-lit vehicle and watching what Elio was doing to the injured prisoner—the one in armor.Her eyes wide, she looked at Elio kneeling atop an already crippled man and him causing more damage."Elio…What are you _doing_?That's against Geneva!" 

"Screw the Geneva Con crap!" screamed Elio from the red-lit interior of that vehicle, and he turned his head left to look out at Lisa."That stuff's centuries out of date.And that was written up by _humans_ anyway.'_Jus in bellum,_''_jus ad bellum_,' sucks to all that ass-mar!All that's just ideology cooked up by meat people!People made of flesh!Damned meat-bodied people, can't be rid of them."Elio then turned his head back to the prisoner."Isn't that right, snookums?Cutey kid!"He then pinched off another bit of flesh from the man's face, more blood came. 

Alia came around to Lisa's side.She saw Lisa standing behind the vehicle, her gloved hands on her face.Now Elio began to _slap_ and _slap_ the now-bloody face of the prisoner.Both Alia and Lisa's eyes on the prisoner, Alia reached up and put a reassuring hand on Lisa's forearm. 

Alia then spoke up."Elio, our brains are flesh, too, as were our bodies once."She saw Elio no longer moving and doing violence."As such, we are still living being who should do well by respect to other beings—human or synthetic-bodied." 

Elio gave a final metal-handed _slap_ to the groggy and punch-drunken prisoner—whose face was a wet and meaty red by this time.Elio then stepped away from the prisoner and leapt out of the vehicle.Now he was in bright daylight.Details were visible:His uniform had splatters of blood on them, and his right hand had bits of human skin in finger joints. 

He walked over to Alia by Lisa's side.Six feet and with a male-type body, Elio towered over four-foot and petite-bodied Alia.He was a giant to the small techie."Respect, huh?" he asked with a crippled grin. 

"Respect," answered Alia, meeting his gaze.She had to look up at him.But look up she did.Her small body was straight and her booted feet were planted.And her littlehands were clenched. 

She remained stiff bodied, even when Elio lifted her by the neck—using his right machine-hand.The bloodied hand.Dark-haired and tall Lisa tensed, but did nothing.Pale-haired little Alia did nothing, either.If Alia did anything, maybe her life would be over in a seconds when Elio squeezed.A synthetic-bodied person's most vulnerable part was the neck, where life-support, mobility, and other vital connections were between head and body.The neck was where the metal-ringed throat was, too. 

Holding her, Elio's thumb moved directly on the jointed tube that was Alia's windpipe."Yeah, I got some _respect_ right here.Respect, that's power!If I squeezed, you little metal-bodied bitch, what then?Squeezed, _right _here…"His thumb rasped along the metal rings of her slender gray windpipe."Come on, you're a techie!You should know!"He just saw the small blonde cyborg glare at him with her large dark eyes."Aw, give an answer!" 

In the meanwhile, in the transport, Colonel Brigs heard the argument despite his numb and heavy head. Everything seemed somewhat dim and sparkled because of the blows taken.He heard that crazy masochistic one yelling and arguing with one of his fellow machines.His jailers were arguing! 

Someone with a young female voice had mentioned "Geneva," and that stopped the hitting earlier.Now Colonel Brigs had a chance to sit up and return the favor to his savior.Yes, the short and thin blonde one in uniform must have been his savior.Funny, they all wore clothes over their metal bodies like real people. 

He was sure that one of them was an elfin female.Odd, when he was a boy, elves were traditionally a people of wonder and wisdom.Hidden and beautiful.Small and playful.Elves were the light and wonder in the world.Of course, they were accepted among humanity. 

Now, elves were treated as people—called elfin.Oh, they were especially like people.So much like people, that the elves—excuse him—the _elfin_ people, fully took part in the War.Both sides.And even the elfin people on the side of the enemies cooperated and let their small beautiful bodies be replaced with electromechanics.Denatured elves.Truly products of these darkened times. 

Now the little one—that elfin female—was going to die unless he could do something about it.An elf, one of those wonderful petite people from his childhood stories, was as doomed he was.He chuckled, feeling pain prickle in his chest, feeling the blood pooling in his lungs. 

What _could_ Colonel Brigs do?He was a broken soldier.His unit was obliterated and scattered.No one to command.Himself, his armor was damaged so extensively that it no longer functioned.And he was crippled; his left arm was cracked, his lower back was snapped.The lack of feeling and movement below the waist told him that. 

He then saw the one named Elio slightly raising the little one in his grip—probably preparing to squeeze.Would he, Colonel Brigs, let the pretty little elf—elfin female—die before that jerk Elio?Hell, no! 

Let everyone go to Hell!Colonel Brigs then reached with his armored right arm, reached to a panel on his left wrist.At least this particular device still worked.Of course it would work.And when it worked, they would all go down into Hell.With the remains of his faces, Colonel Brigs smiled—at least happy to share death with one of those small wonderful people he always admired. _Going to Hell_._Sing-say, Oh well, as we sink darkened into Hell_. A few button presses did it… 

_There was a world-sound that could have been out of Armageddon itself.The _

_self-destruction explosion from the prisoner's armor also brought about destruction to the entire scene.So bright, all became swallowed and blanketed in florescent white glare._

Then it faded.Instead of there being a transport and people—human and cyborg, full and elf—there was now a fresh darkened crater in the plains.Of Captain Brig's body, there was nothing of course.Some of the metal bodies were still whole, but the synthetic faces were ripped away in the explosion—revealing metal skeleton faces.Metal-skulled bodies in whole and in parts, all scattered.And there they all remained, unmoving under a slow blue sky. 


	2. Prelude 2

City of Slow Dreams: Prelude 2 (by Elliot Bowers) 

     Burning heat of constant sunlight, that was what she felt first.  It was the first felt feeling because it was just so intense.  That quickly made for fear of her brain overheating.  Just degrees centigrade above optimal body temperature, and a brain is damaged—then killed.  There was none of this danger when she was in autostasis; her brain was hormonally put in a state as so it was almost "dead" during that time.  Maybe, her temperature regulation systems malfunctioned?     

     She came to consciousness with that fear and a slight headache, at least.  She tried to open her plastic eyelids, but they were stuck for whatever reason.  Something held down her arms.  She tugged, and her arms up with a spray of dirt and grass.  Her arms had been sunk into earth.  The little one then realized that she was half-buried in it, half-buried in the earth.  Indeed, the elements were at work. 

      She shook her skeletal metal hands to get the dirt out of some mechanisms.   Her hands and neck were the only "open" mechanisms of her body and therefore likely to get buildups of dust and dirt.  The rest of her was sealed.  When her hands were shaken of enough dirt, she then scraped them together for some moments.

     Finally, she carefully stroked her plastic eyelids, and a layer of brown crust came away. She could now open her eyes, which opened to a static-ridden view.  Her visual systems must have been off-line for some time and would have to reboot.  Some time?  Indeed, how _much time had passed over since she was first in auto-stasis?_

     She had more frightful thoughts: _What amount of time passed beyond me?  Time passed over me, and I failed to be present and conscious.  She began to take nervous sips of breath, and her eyes began to look about.  With her visual systems becoming more calibrated, she then set to work ripping herself from the rooty ground of these grassy plains.  _

     The small cyborg shakily stood, her petite and feminine gray form completely exposed.  The explosion blasted away her uniform and had severely damaged her body's systems.  Auto-stasis restored her; autorepair systems had gone to work.  But autorepair systems could not restore her uniform.   

     But her lack of balance was also mental.  She felt extremely odd and off-balance.  Her brain felt fuzzed and slow.  That made her feel upset—again fearing for the health of her brain.  Her brain was the core of her being; all else was synthetic and negligible.  If her brain had been sickened, then _she was sickened._

     She staggered away from the shallow place in the dirt where she had been half-buried, and she walked some yards along the grassy expanse.  Soon after taking steps, she fell to her jointed knees and hands.  Her slowly clearing eyesight came to rest on the grass before her.  Something felt very, very important to her, but she could not at all recall _what.  Rather, __many things were important to her, but she could not remember what they were.  She had forgotten most everything that had once been important._

     What couldn't she remember?  Slivers and hints of shadowy notions whispered to her.  In her mind, she brushed against edges of memories.  But there was frustration in how she could not retrieve—could not _grip—that__ forgotten information.  She had lost most of her memories._

     If she were not careful, she would also lose her sanity.  With more care, she stood.  Carefully, her eyes went from looking down to looking at the vast green reality around her.  There were slightly rolling humps and waves in the green.  Otherwise, there was nothing out here save the wind and the infinitely blue sky above, the sun shining down.  

     She thought, _Solitude?  Is this truly extreme solitude and individuality? Yet, she did not want solitude now.  Her mind scattered with confusion and slight pain, she wanted to go somewhere with people.  There had to be other people about.  Somewhere on these plains, there had to be humanity. _

     She thought, _What direction?  That was a critical question.  She could go in any direction now.  No other priorities than confusion would direct her.  Her own way back to people would have to be all on herself.  Were people east or west?  How close north were people?  Or were they closer south?   _

     For whatever reason, she would go west.  And to determine that direction, she would wait until the sun's position was at an angle.  Yes, waiting.  So, the metal-bodied waif sat down on the plains.  She was capable of waiting, if anything.

     And after an unlabeled hour or so, the sun was in a position away from the very top of the sky.  It was more in early afternoon.  She now knew which direction west was.  So, she walked.  And she walked some more.  She followed the sun.  

     Uncountable hours later, she walked yet more.  This was a walk with extreme monotony.  At least, humans had hunger and exhaustion to force rest breaks from prolonged activity.  Those with synthetic bodies do not have that.  Synthetic bodies have microfusion batteries to keep the body active, and to power internal food synthesizers.  Body and brain were provided for so long as the microfusion pack ran—which could be centuries.  But internal food synthesizers were not quite designed to alleviate tedium.     

     With her smooth gray feet padding the grass in a rhythm, her walking became hypnotic.  There were no obstacles out on these plains, so she could walk with her head down.  That allowed her to walk without even concentrating, and time began to smooth into one long droning period.  

     She continued to try and remember what was forgotten, which was most everything previously important to her.  Trying was the word; her memories continued to ridicule and tantalize her.  That mental mockery and ridicule became more vibrant as her concentration went further away.  Swaths of voices and quick flashes of images came to her mind.     

     Then she came to the highway, to where it ended or began.  Her walking took her to the ragged stony edge of the wide road's pavement.  It was as if the highway were chopped here.  That, or the builders only paved so far before giving up and going away.  Where was _away?  Wherever that __away was, wherever __they went, she would go, too.  The gray asphalt road would lead. She was off to see the builders.  _

     She put her gray feet to the similarly gray asphalt, then looked ahead—far and farther ahead.  In peering into the far distance, she let the enhancements of her eyesight reveal hints of detail about what was beyond standard eyesight.  And with infrared, she saw an uneven hump of heat just over the curve of the horizon.  That was the heat signature for a decent-sized town:  a hump of radiated heat from sunlight-warmed buildings.  

     _Part of a journey away, she thought.  With that, she began to jog.  The bottoms of her titanium alloy feet still had traction texturing; she would have traction.  And, she ran in such a way that her armor-solid feet did not slap the road surface.  Yet she had a desire for a pair of something with thick soles.  Two boots would do well… _

     Her jogging slightly slowed when she had mental glimpses of polished black boots.   There was something about a pair of those thick-soled footwear that she could not quite get.  For whatever reason, she would like a pair of black boots for her feet and ankles.  That, and there should be splotched brown-and-green clothing…

     Her jogging slightly slowed as she thought of the clothing.  _Mottled colors?  She was both repulsed and intrigued by the idea of an outfit with mottled green colors.  It had a vague ambiance of appeal.  That appeal went with a sort of…__properness to it.  And that occupied her for some hours.  Thinking of that odd uniform at least gave her a scraping hold on what had been her memories. _

     In two hours, she came close to where this highway went.  She was now just four miles from a mass of buildings: Most of the buildings seemed just several stories tall, but some of them were tall skyscrapers.  It was a _city, not just a decent-sized town.  This cracked and incomplete highway stretched off and away, into that city. _

     She jogged within three-fourths of a mile and saw a division between the city's concrete and the grass of the plains.  There was a five-foot concrete barrier all around—open at the place where the road went in.  There were windows at the ends of the barrier.  

     There were _people!  This was really a living __city of people.  She then ran.  Her feet rapidly clinked along as she traveled the final stretch of highway up to the open barrier.            A male voice then shouted, "Stop!"  And then she began her stopping. _

     It took some time and effort to halt her machine-fast running.  She locked one alloy foot before her and the other foot back for balance.  That set her to scrape-skidding, sparks spraying in the wake of her gray feet.  The squeal of metal scraping asphalt filled the air and echoed off of the city buildings and barrier.  She eventually slowed.    

     With the very bottoms of her feet heated and white scrape-streaks on the road, she managed to stop at the very opening in the barrier; the retractable gate was back.  And she saw the two toll posts, which were actually built into the concrete barrier. 

     She moved to the center of the highway, at the very opening of the thick and between the windows of the toll posts.  Then, from the left, the _Stop-shouting male voice spoke again.  "What the __Hell are __you doing?  Sheesh, girl, doesn't that armor cut off your breathing or something?  It looks like it's tight __everywhere.  What, is that a metal bodysuit or something?"_

     A voice from the right spoke.  "Don't be stupid!  I think the metal _is her body.  It's just got curves around the tits and hips to make her look passably human.  I think it's a cyborg, or a robot.  Can't tell without the pip procedures."_

     The first voice, the one on the left, spoke again.  "Whatever.  Just let me finish talking to her—or it.  _Ahem…  Now, listen, little thing.  I don't see a face.  All that I see is a round metal skull atop a little titanium bodysuit.  I don't even know if you have a real brain or not.  __Were you a gynoid? Huh, miss?  Before you lost your rubberoid face and hair?"  _

     Facing the darkened toll window in the left side, she said, "No, a metal-type cyborg."  If she still had her face, she would have given a sincere and dreamy smiled.  Missing that, her voice was sweetened with enthusiasm.  "And it truly feels grand, being in the presence of people yet again.  Before this, I lied out on the plains.  Then, there…"

     "Please!" whined the voice on the left.  "Come on, you _thing.  Just stay with us on topic here, huh?  You're lucky we're tolerating your crazy machine-looking self standing at the city limits."  The voice paused for half a second, then spoke to the unseen person behind the other toll window. "Okay, now you give the alloy  she-thing the standard run-down." _

     The other voice spoke again from the right side.  Rather, he chanted in a monotone:  He must either be reading from a handbook or chanting something he had memorized from constant use.  "Welcome, potential citizen, to the City of Brunswick: a fairly large modern city of 200,000 people.  Not quite large by standards of the Old Days, but one of the largest city-states on the continent.   We possess a variety of industries and resources, which makes our economy is one of the most viable of the Western Coastal region.  Most all are welcome.  _However…"_

     She could imagine pages flipping, or imagine the hidden man just pausing for drama.  And she could more easily imagine pages of a manual being flipped.  The speaking man  must have found the page he sought.  He spoke on.  "_However, as your physical appearance is such that you warrant excessive attention, you must undergo a preliminary immigration process, a pip, with the BPD enforcement officers.  __E-Cops, in common speech.  Please stand by as said enforcement officers prepare you for custody._

     Then, doors opened somewhere on the far side of the thick and tall two-part wall.  And then the very tall owners of the two voices came out to where the small metal-type cyborg stood.  Odd enough, the two were very tall males dressed like detectives from the times before the War.  The Old Days.   

     Those were two e-cops, looking nearly twins.  They were easily seven feet tall, had short-cut brown hair.  Medium builds that even showed through their clothes.  The two very tall brown-haired men wore light brown fedora hats with open trenchcoats.  Beneath the trenchcoats were button white shirts with ties, and there were light brown slacks with the cuffs touching black shiny spats.  With their matching faces and complexions, the two e-cops may as well have been twins.  

    The two giants approached to tower over her.  The one on the right spoke.  "Just stay there and let us prepare you for custody."  They saw her dark eyes staring, a look of questioning.  "First," said that one, "turn yourself around, your back to me.  Then, put your wrists together behind your back, and hold still."  

     She did so, curious.  _Cl-__Clink!  She felt the solid handcuffs go onto her alloy wrists.  Her wrists would no longer separate.  Now she was worried.  "__What is this?  This is __what?  __What want you two?"  She shook her handcuff-bound wrists twice.  "Indeed, t__his becomes part of the 'preparation?'"   _

     "Woo-hoo!  You sure do talk funny, little thing.  You been hit in the head or something?" asked the other e-cop as the first gigantic e-cop knelt to check the titanium tensor-field cuffs.  "Anyway…  Yes, this is known as 'preparation for custody.'  If you broke any official laws, we would call it arrest.  But since you broke one of the unofficial laws, we just call it preparation.  Easy."

     "Okay, that's it," said the one that had secured the cuffs on the metal girl.  "And let's hurry.  Just looking at that metal skull-face of hers makes my synth-flesh crawl.  You know?"  He looked down at the small metal-bodied female, but spoke to his fellow e-cop.  "You go carry her to the station.  I carried the last one."   So the other e-cop scooped her up over his left shoulder and carried her deeper into Brunswick.  His partner would stay at his post in the wall.

     She was somewhat worried that the officer would drop her as he strode along, and it was quite a drop.  But she allowed herself to be carried.  Turning to the side allowed her to see more of the town from the sidewalk they traveled.  Architecture consisted primarily of short and solid buildings—brick-and-mortar structures in this area.  Occasionally, the two would pass by ordinary looking, two-story houses.  And they passed pedestrians.

     The pedestrians had generic looks.  They generally wore heavy work shirts and pants with boots or shoes, male and female.  It was slightly after noon, and it was likely that these people were on business.  She even twice saw athletic-looking people in business suits and dark glasses.      

      "How are you holding up back there?" asked the e-cop.  She said nothing.   "Sorry about the rough treatment and all, but this is part of procedure."  He adjusted his grip on her hard back.  Then he began to lengthen his stride.  "Uh oh," he said.

     Then came a loud woman's shout.  And the two were no longer going in the direction of the police station.  "_Officer, what—or who__—are you carrying over to your station?  Is that a robot?  If so, why those handcuffs?  Huh?"  The metal cyborg, still seeing the world upside-down, turned her head right to see the woman that spoke. _

     Standing at the sidewalk, at a storefront, was a large and matronly sort.  She dressed in billowing slacks and an even more billowing blouse.  Her honey blonde hair looked tightly held back by her hairstyle, a bun.  And her expression looked just as uptight.  Hands on her hips, her attention was on the e-cop, not on the small metal waif on his back.   

     "_Oh damn…" whispered the officer.  The cyborg over his shoulder heard it, but the large human woman yonder wasn't supposed to. She didn't.  The e-cop turned to the woman and spoke.  "__Hello, Mrs. Frump!  It's so nice to see you again!"  _

     "Nice?  _Nice?  Come __on now!  I reserve you and your fellow e-cops most of my inventory of tensor field-treated shoes—every pair rare—and you just say __nice?  Ooh, wait until your chief hears __that!"  She made an open-handed reverse waving motion with her right.   "Get over here…!"_

     Big Officer Marphie came over to Mrs. Frump, the metal being over his shoulder not saying anything.  In fact, she was amused at the officer's plight at the hands of this Mrs. Frump.  Mrs. Frump bantered on at him, her right hand wagging a pointing finger at him.  "You go stepping on over to that station of yours and you don't even say hello unless I remind you!  And you don't even introduce me to your short little friend there!  What _is happening to your manners, officer?"_

     "Well, you see, this newcomer needs to go through preliminary immigration procedures," said the e-cop.  "She came in from the plains, and now we need to integrate her into the economy.  It may take a while, but we don't want to break procedures."

     "Oh, you and your silly procedures!  Administrations ought to pay you more to deal with more important things, like keeping the worst of the Ganglanders under control.    There are only so many of you, and there are many more of _them.  Do you think that little one over your shoulder will become a Ganglander or what?" _

     _Doubtful, as I lack knowledge of them, thought the metal-bodied girl.  And she heard Officer Marphie speak for her.  "I can't be sure.  I just take newcomers down to the station for immigration procedures.  After that, after the paperwork, any way she integrates herself into the economy is not my business."   _

     The round blonde woman fired back an answer.  "Well, honey, guess what?  I'll _make that one my business.  Tell you what, just keep her here, and you won't have to put up with all the typing, processing and paperwork.  I'll integrate that little thing into the economy myself.  So, leave that one here for your sake and mine."   _

     Marphie's lips sputtered.  "But…  But…  But Procedures dictate documentation and identification of new immigrants.  She _has to go to the station."_

     "Do you want me to talk to my cousin, an _executive, about this?  Or do you want my brother and his buddies to raise a little deliberate chaos?"  Mrs. Frump saw the big officer take a slight step back at the two threats.  "I didn't think so!  Now, put the little one down as so I can see what I'm getting.  Size her up and all.  Come on, come on!"_

     Officer Marphie reached up to take the little being from over his shoulder, then lowered her to the ground.  The cyborg stood straight, head down.  Mrs. Frump stared, glaring. Officer Marphie realized why; he reached down to remove the heavy handcuffs from the small cyborg's metal wrists.     

      "Well?  Can you speak, or is your voice synthesizer damaged?" asked Mrs. Frump as the being looked up at her.  "Even if you don't have a face, you _must have a name.  And a home before this.  Tell me bits about yourself."_

     "A name?"  The short being paused, then gave a hard blink.  And then she said, "I say my name is Alia.  I did come in from the plains, as known by Officer Marphie…"  She then went quiet, staring at the woman.  She had run out of descriptive information about herself.

     "Hmm…  Alia…  Alia.  I suppose it's not 'Leia' or even 'Lia" for nicknames, right?"  In response, Mrs. Frump saw the metal-bodied cyborg give a shake of her head.  "It's a beautiful name.  A bit on the archaic side, but it has to be a fair name for your brain…"  Mrs. Frump then leaned over until her nose was almost in contact with the holes of Alia's exposed nostrils:  a plump-soft face against a metal-hard skull face.  "Come inside.  I'll find some use for you.  And I'll find something to make you a touch more presentable, too."  

     Officer Marphie gone, Mrs. Frump took the cyborg by the hand into the shoe store—this medium-sized and carpeted place with rows of shoes.  Shoes were of various sizes, colors and technological levels.  Shoes for real-bodied people.  Shoes for cyborgs.  Plenty of footwear around.

     "That was a nice kind of hello," said the wide woman in closing the door.  "So nice to speak with the e-cops every so often.  Nice big boys and girls, they are, but a bit sheepish.'  Mrs. Frump to Alia.  "'Alia.'  Hmmph, is that your real name?  I noticed how you had to _think a little before you spoke.  So, tell me about your real self."  Her dark blue eyes stared—expectation of an answer._

     Alia folded her gray hands together in front of herself, small sounds of metal rasping on metal.  "Oh…  Well madam, I lack memories.  A malady seized me.  Only today did I recover enough to return to consciousness."       

     _In good condition, but talks funny, thought Mrs. Frump.  She said, "Oh, what's that?  I don't think malady is the word.  How can you be sick?  You're a cyborg, and cyborgs can malfunction.  Like machines.  Your body's a machine, so shouldn't you say 'malfunction?'" _

     Alia gently shook her head.  "My physique is electromechanical.  Yet, my brain lives.  That leads to biological  vulnerability.  Like infections particular to the brain.  Or a blow to the braincase.  Or prolonged auto-stasis.  That, and more, can lead to degrees of sickness with cyborgs."  _And please cease your asking…    _

     "Auto-stasis?  Whoa, that's an old-_old-fashioned word.  You're one of those metal types, an antique body.  War era?"  The big woman smiled a smile of revelation.  "You __are a War antique!  How quaint!"  _

     She then went away from the door, going to the left side of the shoe showroom. The cash register's counter was over there.  "Come and sit on the counter."  She also motioned to the antique.  

     Alia the antique followed, taking striding steps to the counter.  She reached up to pull herself onto it, then pivoted as so she sat facing Mrs. Frump.  The large woman then put her hands on the sides of Alia's smooth gray skull, gently turning the head left and right for perusal.  She then gently tilted back Alia's head to take some looks at the machinery of the neck. 

     "Hmm…  Superior condition, considering War-time goods.  Some dirt in the neck works, but auto-repair systems ought to eventually deal with that low-priority issue…  Lie down."  

     Alia did, her head near the cash register, and she put her hands at her sides.  Mrs. Frump then slowly perused the rest of Alia's gray alloy body—the surface armor.  "Good, the body is still sealed.  Nice shape, too.  Looks feminine.  But your hands are exposed machinery.  I wonder why…"  She lifted Alia's hands one at a time for closer inspection.  "Very good hands for an archaic model.  Very good.  High dexterity.  Must have been good at repairs…"

     That piqued Alia enough to say something, but then the whim died like a light flicked off.  There was _something in what Mrs. Frump said.  About having __good __hands and being __good __at __repairs.  It was the same brush with memory she had when thinking on mottled green uniforms and black boots.  Whatever Alia thought, it was dead now.  _

     "Now, sit up."  Alia sat up, her legs dangling over the edge of the counter.  "I'm going to get some things to make you look more acceptable in public.  That metal body and short size of yours may get attention, but we can at least cover the head a bit.  Hmmph, hope I still have some spares…" The large woman then went to the back of the shoe store—passing between aisles and to a door at the very back.  That left Alia to looking around.

     And she did look around.  She folded her hands in her lap and turned her head to the right.  There were many aisles of shoes, shoes of multiple types.  Some were just simple material shoes of synthesized rubber and leather.  Those shoes were for people who still retained their real bodies.  Shoes and sneakers made with rubberoid soles were designed for people with "replacement" bodies, or bodies of synthetic flesh and metal skeleton.     

     The large woman reappeared from between the aisles of shoes.  In her left hand, she held a light-red bandanna.  And in her right, she had a wig with loose dark curls.  These, she carried over to the armor-bodied waif on the counter.

     "Now, hold still.  I'm going to try this bandanna over your face.  It'll be like a 

face rag."  The large woman put the wig to the side of Alia, then put the bandanna around the metal head, covering the face.  "Of course, eye holes."  She took away the bandanna and held it out to Alia.  "Poke two big holes in this for your big eyes.  Then we'll put the wig on."  

     Alia took the bandanna, then estimated where her eyes would be if she wore it as a "face rag."  With careful pinches, she tore out two perfectly circular holes.  Firmly double-tied around the back of her head, the modified bandanna stayed on her head.  She could see out of the holes, and it covered her metal face.

     Then the round woman pressed the dark wig against the top of Alia's skull, and she sat obediently straight.  As she held the wig there, Mrs. Frump explained.  "The polymers in this wig take some seconds to hold to titanium.  At least, that's what I was told by the guy that sold it to me; no one really uses these wigs anymore.  Scalp replacement these days, you know."  Or don't.    

     She then pulled her hand away from Alia, and the wig remained.  "Ah, that ought to do it!  Now let me take a look at you."  The big woman stepped some steps away from Alia, then put hands on hips.  "You look more presentable now.  The wig looks a bit big on you, but that's because you're just so small to begin with.  It looks cute though.  And the bandanna makes a good face rag.  Probably better than…" Mrs. Frump saw something out the large front window of the shop.  "Hmmph, here he comes."  Alia wondered who "he" was.  

     The doors of the shop whipped open, and there was a breeze of an air current in here.  Three youths came in:  two six-foot pale lanky males and a lanky female.  All wore blue boots and blue jeans, with tee shirts and black synth-leather jackets for tops.  The two males had black hair, and the female had curly yellow-blonde hair.  They looked physically normal save for their metal hands; the rest of their bodies were of the synth-flesh type.  

      The mouse-faced male led the way to the counter, over where Alia sat curious and Mrs. Frump stood annoyed.  He stopped, and his two cohorts did.  There was silence for some seconds as the wayward youth regarded the little metal-type cyborg.  

     He looked left and right, glimpses to his comrades.  "What do you think?  Is she real or just a fakie?"  He then returned his gaze to the thing on the counter.  "Authentic antique or phony fakie?" 

     The skinny yellow-haired cohort spoke.  "I think it's a phony, a fakie.  The thing's brain can't be alive.  Like, the War was several hundred years back.  But that one's whole.  Put back together, maybe."

     The other cohort, the flat-faced male, said, "I don't know.  It's hard to tell if the brain is still alive.  If the brain was replaced with an A.I. matrix, there'd be extra screws for the secondary casing.  Nope, can't tell if it's a fakie or the real deal."

      "Oh yeah, big help you two are!" said Zackus.  He looked at the large blonde woman.  "Okay, you gotta tell us.  Is that a real living metal-type cyborg or what?  You have to tell me if the brain in its head is still real."  

     Mrs. Frump let out a long breath, more rude people.  Looking at the mouse-faced one, she said, "_Hello, Zackus.  How are __you?  Nice of you to just come barging into one of my stores without even saying 'hi' in return."  She then moved her bulky body to the left, now out from behind the cyborg on the counter—a direct line of sight from herself to Zackus.  "What would Mom say to you about being rude?"_

     "Hey sis, being rude is a key aspect of a Ganglander's being, you know?"  He leered, the effect of the leer amplified because of his big nose and wide lips.  "Mom loves me anyway.  You know that.  Anyway, is it real or a fakie?" 

     Mrs. Frump then put her hands on Alia's shoulders and tried to turn her around.  Alia obliged and moved herself around, her metal bottom rotating on the counter.  "Yeah, she's real.  Officer Marphie was going to take her down to the station for pip procedures." 

     "Sure it wasn't going to be…_pimp procedures?  You know, spend a few thousand on a little immigrant, give it a synth-flesh body, and…" said Zackus, the Ganglander with the mousy face.  He and his cohorts then gave cynical chortles.  Mrs. Frump shook her head, still looking annoyed.  Younger brothers were annoying at times, especially when with their little friends.  Especially if they were Ganglanders. _

     "Zackus, please don't annoy me today.  I don't like my mood being darkened," said Mrs. Frump.  "He even brought this one along.  This is_ a real metal-type cyborg from the time of the War.  She's in nearly flawless condition too.  Though the synthetic flesh of the head and the hair are gone, she's still basically as good as she was made."_

     "Groovy!  So can we borrow her?" asked Zackus.  He then lifted his chin and affected a more stiff-mouthed way of talking.  "Dear sibling, Jimmy, Lula and myself would absolutely _adore the temporary possession of such a fine piece!  It would truly be like the lessons of hypno-education came to life.  Because…"  His cohorts giggled at Zackus' phony speech, and he then spread his leather-clad arms--silvery hands also outstretched.  "Because, that __is a part of history.  Culture and dear refinement, dear sister."  At that speech, his cohorts outright laughed.  _

     Alia just stared at the giggling wayward youth, intrigued.  Her memory was truncated, but she was sure she never saw modern youths dress that way before.  Ganglanders themselves dressed like certain American youths from archived photos of the Old Days:  black leather jackets, tee shirts, jeans and boots.  But American youths of the mid-20th century did not have metal hands, nor were American youths with synthetic bodies.    

     On that, Alia had questions.  Why they chose to go for full-metal hands was odd, considering how they were civilians.  If a person was going for full metal limbs, why just stop at the hands?  A full metal body was stronger than just synth-flesh.

     The willowy female Ganglander spoke in her cutesy voice.  "Ooh…  I think it's sort of cute.  So could we borrow it, Lucy?  Could we?  I'll try to get Zackus to take good care of it for you.  It's too cute to damage."

     Mrs. Frump's slight annoyance temporarily spiked into anger at being called by her first name by those kids.  Then again, those "kids" could be several decades old: Synth-flesh bodies were not real, and therefore did not age.  Ganglanders could then remain "teenagers" forever.  Whatever, they still behaved like kids.  

     Mouse-faced Zackus, flat-faced Jimmy, and cutesy cheeked Lula then folded and raised their gleaming silver hands together and looked at the annoyed woman behind the counter, their eyes wide and in exaggerating pleading.  In chorus, "_Puh-leese __can we borrow her?  _

     Mrs. Frump rolled her eyes, then let out one long breath.  "Okay, you can take her.   But that's just because you help keep your cohorts from vandalizing my shops.  Got that, Zackus?  You keep your cohorts from my shops."  

     "Thanks, sis!" said Zackus.  He then put his hands on Alia's upper arms.  A _real metal-type waif!  He then put her on the ground.  "Hey, at least it still stands.  The brain in the head must still have some life in it.  Okay, antique.  Let's go out of this store."_

     Before Zackus could move with Alia, Mrs. Frump moved surprisingly quickly to snatch the wig off of Alia's skull.  That exposed the cranium again.  The large woman then said, "I don't want to lose this wig.  Some customers may want to use it."

     Zackus smirked.  "Hey, we're just _borrowing it, right?  You're not going to lose it to us.  We'll return it, right Ganglanders?"  He then heard the chuckles of his buddies, and he held out his gleaming hands in a gesture that said, __See what I mean?  He then bent over to take Alia's left hand in his right, and he loped over to the store's exit—Jimmy and Lula following. _

     They were just a block away, walking along the city sidewalk, when Zackus wanted to start an argument with Lula.  He still led Alia by the hand as they all walked along the street.  "Lula, I bet if we put this cyborg in a fire, the brain will die.  The metal should heat up really hot, and the brain will bake in the skull!  We can keep the body at our place for…"  

     He then heard a female's gasp.  That was Alia, and she began trying to pull her hand out of Zackus'.  But Zackus' solid machine hand clamped down on her own, keeping her from escaping.  "Hey there, short little antique!  Calm down!"  Alia still tried to pull, then began hitting at Zackus' gripping hand with her free one.  She then took a look around, saw that no bystanders cared.  Alia then _scre-e-amed in Zackus' face.  _

     "Calm it down, I said!"  He then lifted his free hand and…  _Clink! He struck Alia across her forehead—knocking away the bandanna that served as a face rag.  Her small form then went limp, but Zackus still held her. _

     He put Alia over his left shoulder and turned.  Lula and Jimmy stood deadpan.  "Come on!  Let's see if metal-type cyborgs are really tough against fire."  Now to start the argument…  "And Lula, didn't you once say that they are?"

     Lula gave him a look and crossed her leather-sleeved arms.  "Zackus, allow me to explain yet again.  If you retained information from your hypno-education, you would recall that metal-type cyborgs have modified tensor-field energy systems as a safety against extreme temperatures.  Also, the alloys of their bodies are done up so that they stay cool—something to do with polymers laced into their alloy skins.  Though the brain _could be in a little trouble, if the homeostasis has problems."  _

     "Yeah, you tell'em, Lula!" cheered Jimmy, generally understanding what Lula said.  "Zackus should be strapped back in the learning chairs until he believes what the education programming tell him.  Man, my uncle had to be educated with a live person, and I bet even _he knows about that!"_

     Zackus took a look at the being he had over his shoulder.  "Oh yeah?  You two think yourselves so damned smart!  Let's try out that flame-resistant theory!  I think…  I think…"  

     "And therefore I am!" said Lula.  "_Je crois, donc je suis!  Didn't you learn that, too?  Or are you still a slacker?"_

     Zackus glared at the smiling cohort.  "As I was saying, I _think that we should have materials for a kind of little experiment.  There are clothes shops somewhere on this street.  People toss stuff out back, __flammable stuff…"  _

     Jimmy's eyes went wide.  "You're not _serious, are you?  I mean, we're going to kill a little cyborg-girl just because you want to test an idea?  What if…"_

     "Come on, Jimmy!" answered Zackus, feeling his usual brash and reckless self.  "This thing _can't be a little girl.  It's a metal-type! An outdated freak-antique.  Metal types haven't been made __since the War!  There may have been a little girl's brain in its head once, but the brain is probably screwed up now—being in the body for so long.  _

     "And besides, don't you believe Lula?  Shouldn't this little antique's brain be kept cool by the body's systems?  If not, so _what if its brain dies?  It's not a person anymore!  Look at that low-tech body!"  On that, Zackus took Alia off of his shoulder and held her limp self by the upper arms.  A four-foot metal doll.  "A damned machine!"  He shook her at Jimmy.  "An outdated machine!  Now, there's a clothes store.  There's the alleyway that leads to its dumpsters.   Let's try the experiment.  And don't be a wussy!"  Zackus then led the way to that alley on the left.  His cohorts followed, but not before one of them—Lula—picked up Alia's bandanna._

     They made their way through a dark and narrow alley to a space behind the store.  And there was a large dumpster likely full of the sort of flammable items Zackus wanted.  "Yeah, there should be some stuff nearby…"  he said as he laid the cyborg on the dingy concrete ground.  He then went to the dumpster.  He raised the top, then began pulling out plenty of tissue paper, occasional synth-wood boards and synth-cotton cloth.

     Before long, he had a pile of flammable rubbish, enough to cover Alia.  He then proceeded to put those swaths of cloth, those broken synth-wood boards and tissue over Alia.  And he reached into an upper left jacket pocket for a lighter.

_     As for Alia, she came to the surface of her dazed state.  Her very slight movements were not noticed because of all the materials she was covered with.  The blow to her head had only stunned her.  Her life support systems then worked to slowly increase dosage of adrenaline to her brain…_

     "Now, watch and learn kids.  And _do try this experiment at home.  I recommend it, if you can find a metal-type cyborg!" he said.  He was holding a small boxy lighter with the top flipped up.  Not a Zippo lighter, this: This lighter had two exposed terminals that would spark to ignite things.  Zackus then put the lighter to the rubbish heap, and he pressed the small round ignition knob.  The lighter sparked a bit of the rubbish, and Zackus leapt away from the resulting flames.  "Feel the burn, baby!"   _

     Then the flaming trash flew out in multiple directions when Alia shoved with her arms.  Still lying down, she kicked up and backward, giving her enough inertia to roll backward and snap to her feet.  Amidst the scattered burning bits of trash, her fists up, Alia stood in a basic fighting stance.  She faced Zackus, who was over near the dumpster.  

     He smirked.  "You oversized scrap of shit metal, you want a fight?  You want a piece of _me, the __Zackus?  Hah, I've rumbled with people two times, __three times your size!"  He raised his own metal fists.  "Want to take on me?  Then take me on!"  _

     The rumble was on.  Zackus did a fierce step forward, swinging his right metal fist over and down against Alia as he moved.  And with a _clink, his myogel-strong punch connected with Alia. _

     The punch actually connected with Alia's upraised and held-together forearms—a double-armed block of the attack.  But there was some effect; she staggered steps backward, and there were slight scrapes on the armor of her forearms.

     Recovering from the shock of the blow, she then did a quick leap forward, moving so quickly that she managed to stand immediately before Zackus before he could react.  _Thunk-thunk!  Alia's own metal fists cut into the synth-muscle of Zackus' right thigh—shearing synth-cotton, rubberoid skin and some of the pale and bloodless "muscle."  She took a step back and raised her fists yet again._

     Zackus' right leg lost some strength, flesh damage.  There was no real "pain" for a cyborg, but there was still damage and a slight loss of coordination.  He fell to a knee, but his fists remained raised. "You little piece of scrap crap!  I'll take your body apart and use it for Art-Deco!"      

     Shoving with his uninjured left leg, he then lunged for Alia, jabbing with his left silvery fist.  But Alia turned to the side, and that blow missed.  That left Zackus with his right arm extended, off-balance. 

     Alia counter-attacked.  She did a half-spin and extended her right leg—a crescent kick.  That blow connected with Zackus' side, knocking him away and down.  And the traction texturing along the bottom of her foot had sheared away a bit of his side, where the kick connected. 

     Zackus stayed down for some seconds, then began to get up again.  Alia did _not stay to see him come to his feet.  Instead, she ran at his surprised cohorts and managed a powerful burst of energy enough to leap over their heads—going into the alleyway out of here.  Her feet pattered off into the distance and off in a random direction.  She was lost and hurt, and she did not know where to go in this city._


End file.
